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Mitzi's Perspective on the School

A teen's perspective

By Abygael SilversPublished 4 years ago 10 min read
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Mitzi's Perspective on the School
Photo by Kamila Maciejewska on Unsplash

School, just my favorite type of place, crowded, annoying, and filled to the brim with teenagers. I hated it here not because of the classes or the teachers or the getting up early, because none of that was a problem. Rather, I hate it because of the other students with their heads up their asses and their pitiful, prideful manner.

“Just smile, Mitzi,” I told myself time after time, “Things are bound to get better from here!”

I swallowed back my negative thoughts and regained my optimistic, happy composure. After all, being positive is the best way you can handle things you don’t like and look forward was the best way to avoid getting squashed.

Books in hand, I closed my locker with grace and skipped happily through the halls, being the quirky, dorky me that I hope people would appreciate. I liked being the silly gal I am, because mother always told me and my older brother that we hadn’t got much childhood left, so we should enjoy it while it lasts. Then again, she also says a hangover in the morning is like a bullet to the head, so she can be a bit of a fruitcake.

Good Day! I’m Mitzi Koehler, an unimportant, yet unusual and unique individual with an artistic, passionate personality. The only problem with that, you see, is that I’m quite bad at conversation and social situations. I guess if there was a word I’d use, it’d be awkward.

I took a left to the staircase and began going up to my first-period class, creative writing. I looked around the halls for anyone I knew, but found no one. I did this every week, hoping that someone I knew would be there. But, as always, I was left disappointed and went into 203 with the best smile I could muster.

“Good morning, Mitzi!” a small, pleasant old lady said with a grin. That old lady was my teacher Mrs. Gonzalez, a friendly and lenient teacher with a heart of gold.

“Good morning,” I said back calmly and quietly.

“Anything interesting happened today or yesterday, my dear?” she asked politely.

I hesitated for a second, debating on how I would answer the question. After all, quite a few interesting things did happen today alone. So, I just answered honestly.

“Yes, something interesting always happens,” I smile happily.

“You look happy, Mitzi,” she laughed, “It’s so good to know that my students are all happy.”

I placed my stuff down at my desk and walked out the door, telling Mrs. G that I wouldn’t be long and head toward the bathroom next-door.

School hadn’t been going on long, yet I’ve already grown quite accustomed to my mediocre routine. After all, it was an easy thing to get used to, despite returning from a truly relaxing summer that seemed to end the moment it came. That’s not even to mention I had finally become a high schooler, which all in itself is hard for me to swallow. To symbolize the new me, I cut off a large majority of my hair and donned a new, more mature and girly look. I even wore a bit of make-up for the first week of school, but that trend faded, because I was personally not a fan of wearing it. Despite not wearing any mascara or eyeliner, I still look pretty damn cute.

I smiled, fussing with my hair in the mirror. Eyes widened and the edges of my mouth curved upwards, giggling happily as I looked at myself. I stop and bring my hand to my chin, bringing my eyes down.

“Are you okay?” I whisper.

I looked down at my feet, grinning. I bring my head back forward to the mirror, eying myself with confidence.

“You’re fine,” I said under my breath, turning away from the mirror and leaving the bathroom back into the hallway. I turn sharply into the classroom and return to my seat, placing my things under the desk and out of my way.

I tore out a piece of paper from my notebook and began doodling with a plain, yellow pencil. Blissfully, I hum a little tune in my head that sounds an awful lot like “Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen. I make six large irregular pentagons around the faded shading of a circle. After perfecting each shape, I began making little circles around the bigger, faded circle, my pencil almost thinking with a mind of its own. I crosshatch each shape in differing shades and tints of the same graphite gray. I sketch a thick line vertically, connecting the shapes to the bottom of the sheet. I focus solefully on the background now, drawing a thick circle showing partially at the top like a moon two days before its harvest. Around it, the pencil goes into five wavy lines and extends to the bottom. I do some erasing and editing before I’m happy with the final product: An angular flower in the sun.

Just then, the bell rings and Mrs. Gonzalez goes to the front of the class and it all goes just as any other day would. I ignore my surrounding subordinates and their spiteful snickering, and just write with a smile on my face. Today was an ordinary day.

I wonder if anyone would guess my true nature as a person. I wonder that so often. Sometimes, I even wonder who I am. Yet, in the grand scheme of things, did that matter much? After all, I was still just that unimportant high school girl even with my personality. My grades were nothing to be proud, yet nothing to be disappointed in. They were adequate. My looks were pretty standard for someone of germanic descent, blond hair and blue eyes. I had quite a few friends, but I wasn’t renowned around the town or popular at the school. My home life was an interesting one to be sure, being pretty dysfunctional, but we were still a family and a loving one too. I was wanted, yet not depended on. My past was one full of heartbreak and tears, but it didn’t matter, because no one knew about it except for myself. So, all in all, my life didn’t matter. I was just another teenager trapped within the symbolic walls of Lockwood, maybe they want to be there and maybe they don’t. I knew for certain that I didn’t. After all, Lockwood was as fake as the pearl beads on my mother’s cheap, yet elegant necklace.

The school where my very existence didn’t matter much was Lockwood Township High School. There, I might as well not even be there. I don’t do sports or any activities after school. The only talents I had were in art and writing, and I was still not very talented at that either. Regardless, I was like a ghost at that school. The school itself, by the way, was not that great. The main thing I hated was the “zero tolerance” bully rule, which says that there’s harsh punishment for bullies, but all they do is give them a slap on the wrist and a “don’t do that again”, which they almost always do again. That was probably the thing I hated the most, but other than that, the school had also been a meeting place for the worst football team ever. I didn’t care much for sports, nor if our own team would ever win, but it's kind of ridiculous to constantly hear about yet another loss from the Lockwood football team. Even the teachers at the pep rallies all shake their heads when the announcer asks “Are we gonna beat the opposing team?” and a majority of the students cheerfully scream. It’s a bit sad, but regardless, that was my school.

The town itself was a bustling, growing suburb, one of the fastest-growing suburbs in the nation. In its youth, Lockwood was far smaller and less populous, but now was home to about twenty-five thousand Americans and many shops and services. The place was diverse in wealth and full of places to hang out. Boring was the wrong word to use for Lockwood, but living here was unsatisfactory and depressing. It was the most populous in the Lockwood High School district, but there was also Marblecrest, Appleview, Kleine and Elliot.

In Marblecrest, it was rather trashy and unsanitary in looks, but the people were, for the most part, very friendly and kind despite all the drug deals. The homes were mostly cheaper there than in Lockwood, with a few larger and richer neighborhoods scattered around. It had quite a few good hangouts and places to go. North of Lockwood, to get to Marblecrest, you need to cross the god-forsaken 9th St. Bridge. Heaven knows how busy and frustrating that old bridge can be.

Neighboring Marblecrest was the ever populous Elliot, a fast, rapidly growing city bustling with crime. The place has five correctional facilities alone! There was a lot to do in Elliot and many places to go. Technically, it's not part of the Lockwood district, but because the schools there are so god-awful, many students who live here lie about their location. But little did they know that despite its high ratings, Lockwood is its own form of shit. Welcome to Lockwood, assholes!

On the other side of Lockwood sat the primp and perfect Appleview, a farm-like village. Appleview kids were usually wealthy or upper-middle class types. At the very least, they were well-off. Appleview was boring and mostly just residential areas, with all the most exciting things off of Bell Rd. Home to more than 23,000 rich caucasian and middle-eastern kids, Appleview kids were the kids who did the drugs that Marblecrest or Lockwood kids likely sold. Yes, the seemingly crime-free and clean Appleview smoked what the Marblecrest kids probably sold and what the Lockwood kids probably made.

Technically part of Lockwood, Kleine is the armpit of the screwed body of the personified Lockwood. Kleine had a population of 2,000 and home to mostly poor kids. Many of the kids were intelligent, the condition of the middle school and elementary school was one of the worst rated, yet a lot of the kids I knew who came from Kleine were far happier with how their schooling went during their younger years. There’s not much to say other than that if you’re going to get shot in Lockwood, it’ll most likely be there.

Surrounding around, there were many other cities and villages to go to like Prylyn or Orland Forest or Brookfield, but none of which went to Lockwood High Schools. All of which had their own shitty, corresponding schools. Prylyn was full of half-wits, Orland was full of pretentious dicks, and Brookfield was just full of criminals. And all of them were full of some of the best hang-outs like the mall or the plaza, being only ten minutes or so away.

As anyone could probably tell, I wasn’t a fan of Lockwood or its neighboring towns, yet this was my home. I’ve been living in the same town in the same house for my entire life. I wanted to get out. I wanted to get away. I wanted to run away and disappear somewhere, possibly become an author with the pen name Madison “Maddie” Bowling, a normal name no one expected in a town nobody has heard of. I’d be well-known, yet a mystery and that’s the best way to live in my eyes. That was my dream and I was confident to make it come true, even if no one else believed in me.

high school
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Abygael Silvers

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